Amitie
by Kwinks
Summary: A collection of one-shots based on the friendship between Tamaki and Kyouya.
1. Mask

You might say Kyouya was a mystery, and you'd be right. Where did his seemingly limitless information come from? How did he attain the ability to be all knowing? Was he even _human? _Typical questions that no one quite knows the answer to, at least unless you're Kyouya himself, or perhaps Tamaki.

If anyone had ever gathered enough courage to ask Kyouya these questions, they wouldn't get an answer. A small smirk, and maybe a slight raise of the eyebrows would be their only response. For as dangerously mysterious as he may be, Kyouya knows that Tamaki is even more of a mystery. The boy is an enigma all to himself, and the most pressing question Kyouya has ever wanted an answer to was this: How in all of the sane world, had Tamaki Suou, of all people, managed to see through his façade?

This of course was a question that Kyouya had long since given up on having an answer to. In large part due to the fact that he was too proud to ask, but in all honesty he was certain that by now, he already had the answer.

Tamaki may have had the appearance of an emotional idiot, and by all of Kyouya's standards, he was. But in actuality, Tamaki was also much more than that. He was genuine. Sincere. Open. Like a window, he was made to be seen straight through. To his heart. The man wore it on his sleeve.

What you saw with Tamaki was what you got. No more. No less. Period. There was nothing about him that was hidden, and nothing he would care to be. No secrets. Kyouya, for all of his calm intelligence, was the opposite. Masked, walled up, slightly standoffish, and emotionally stunted. There were _a lot_ of secrets.

The other boy had the ability to see things Kyouya could not. He could read people's eyes, their facial expressions, understand other people's emotions. While Kyouya had to go digging for information on people's motives, Tamaki only had to spend some time with them, talk with them, get to know them. Enchanting people was so easy for Tamaki. It came so naturally to him, in a way that it never could for his friend. Although Kyouya could easily manipulate others with his deceptively smooth and friendly demeanor, people just never seemed to be quite as _drawn _to him as they were to the other. Perhaps it was Tamaki's glowing, ever-present warmth that made it so, or perhaps it was something else.

Kyouya spent so much time making himself impenetrable, tried so hard, too hard in fact, to keep up his cool façade, that his mask occasionally became a little too perfect. It made people wary of what he was trying to hide. Kyouya put so much effort into being suave, that he didn't realize how sinister his own coolness had become, so cool that it was frigid. Therefore, by default, with nothing else left to work with, Kyouya had to then resort to intimidation. He sometimes missed this flaw in his foundation, but there are others; the cracks in small places, the seams he fails to cover up. Normal people can't see them; they're too minuscule. But then again, Tamaki has never been normal.

Tamaki, as mentioned, was always open. There were no seams, nothing to cover or protect, because Tamaki didn't try to. His own honesty allowed him to see the truth in others. His face wasn't hooded, remained unsheltered, while Kyouya's eyes were shielded so that no one could see in. As a result, sometimes he couldn't see out. He overlooked things. Only little things, but still, it got to him. Kyouya, at times, became blinded by the not-so-perfectly-cut eyeholes in his mask.

He became jaded by his own falsehood.

For this reason, Kyouya envies Tamaki. Yet never enough to hate him.

_Moron_. Kyouya thinks this and since no one is looking anyway, he smiles affectionately, lets his mask slip. As he contemplates these things, he stares wonderingly at the man occupying his thoughts, the only one for whom he would ever grin so warmly.

Tamaki, at the moment, is busy entertaining some tittering female guests, fluttering excitedly from table to table. He stops mid-explanation to look over at Kyouya. The look is strange, a curious tilt to his lips.

The smile on Kyouya's face snaps off quicker than a camera flash. "Tamaki, you do have guests to be entertaining. We already wasted enough time with Haruhi stopping so long to tie her shoes earlier." He says this in a rather indifferent way, but underneath the polite manner of speaking and the clipped formal tone, everyone knows he means it. And even underneath whatever is left, Tamaki is the only one who knows that he doesn't. Not really. Concerns over wasted money and wasted time are not the only things behind that mask, and perhaps he will be the only one to ever know. But that's okay with Tamaki. The secret is safe with him.

Tamaki's innocent, inquiring smile turns into a smirk. "Whatever you say Kyouya."

Kyouya can hear the laughter in his voice, and it almost makes him angry. Almost.

A look of understanding passes between them. Of course, Tamaki knows Kyouya was smiling at him. He also knows that he wasn't thinking about hosting duties while doing so, and that Kyouya is putting on his mask again. Kyouya knows all of this too. He breaks eye contact first and turns away, and Tamaki's voice starts up the conversation with his guests once more. Safe now, another smile comes back, smaller this time. He shakes his head. _Moron._


	2. Sorry

**A/N: This was just me experimenting with a more dramatic situation, and more serious emotions…I have a hard time writing angry Kyouya, so I think this was good practice for me.**

**

* * *

**

"Kyouya!"

He is ignored.

"Kyouya, please wait up!"

The dark figure halts for only a moment before it starts walking again, but slower this time. Perhaps it's only fanciful thinking, but Tamaki can't help but hope that maybe a small part of his friend _wants_ to be caught before he can leave, wants someone to say something comforting to him, but is too proud to admit it.

In any case, with his long legs, and even longer strides, Tamaki makes it to Kyouya's side, just as he stops to pull out his cell-phone to make a call for his driver.

He doesn't know why he waits, but he does, as Kyouya flips open the communication device, presses one number with his slim thumb, and slips the phone to his ear. In a curt, thick voice his says "Bring the limo up front please." And just like that, the phone is closed and in his pocket again.

"Kyouya, please look at me."

Nothing.

"Kyouya!" And in an uncharacteristic moment of aggression, Tamaki grabs Kyouya by the shoulder and whips him around forcefully to face him. Although it doesn't show, something akin to surprise at the fierce look in Tamaki's eyes hits Kyouya like a baseball bat. And then, it's gone.

"Kyouya…Kyouya, I'm sorry. So sorry about your sister."

The vacancy left by the fleeting surprise in Kyouya is filled to the brim with sudden, hideous anger. In one jerky, violent motion he flings Tamaki's hand off of his shoulder. Tamaki stares in shock, not at his own hand, but at Kyouya's with a kind of horrified fascination. The fingers are shaking, the same fingers that spend most days clacking without a break on his keyboard in the clubroom, or writing in perfectly legible, ordered handwriting on his clipboard. It is the first time he has ever seen them tremble, the first time he has seen them so uncontrolled.

"Shut up." The words are hissed. And like always, when Kyouya wants to express his fury, it is done so in a quiet, dignified kind of way.

The words are spoken dangerously, but Tamaki doesn't back down. There's no room for it now. If Kyouya wants to be angry, if it's what he needs, then Tamaki will be the one to incur his rage.

"I will not shut up. Your sister is clearly not well. You could be up there with her now, if you were under control. But you're not are you, Kyouya? For once in your life, something is not going according to plan, and you can't change it. You hate it, and you're afraid for you're sister, so instead of facing it, instead of showing it, or at least admitting it to yourself, you run away."

"Shut up." Not good enough. The words are still controlled, even if he's not. "I have better things to do than to hang around a hospital all day."

"Oh? So instead of a coward, you're just a heartless bastard, is that it? You must not care about your sister then."

In a second, Tamaki finds himself in a familiar position.

His back is against the cold, hard sidewalk, and above him, almost straddling him, is Kyouya, his hand fisted in the front of Tamaki's shirt. He shakes the boy underneath him. He finally loses control.

"Damn you!" It starts to rain. "I despise you, Tamaki Suoh, and the only reason I ever put up with you is because of your family background. We were never friends. All of that was in your useless mind, you pathetic, brainless oaf." None of this has to do with anything. When he stops hollering, Kyouya's breathing comes in short, and his glasses slide down his nose. For once, he doesn't push them up. Tamaki makes a note of how ironic it is that this is the only time where he really needs to.

Kyouya is only saying the things he knows will hurt the most. He has known Tamaki long enough to know exactly where to hit him, and his words are like arrows. They pierce Tamaki's heart easily, as his is not nearly as well guarded as Kyouya's.

As much as he knows that everything that's just been said is false, as much as he tries to block out Kyouya's yelling and shakes his head as if this will make the words any less true than he knows they already are, Tamaki still feels the sting.

They are both silent. Finally, Kyouya stands, and as he does, Tamaki briefly wonders where the limo is and why it's late. He's glad it's not here though, and feels the tiniest satisfaction even through all the pain, because he reached his goal.

Kyouya lost control for once. Completely. Good, he needed it.

Tamaki stands up on his own.

Two pairs of eyes meet dead on. The color of the clearest sky or the laziest, slow-moving river and the color of slate and stone collide across that small patch of pavement.

It's raining harder now, big wet splashes hitting the ground, and water hits them from a car driving by. Tamaki sees the dirty street water sink deep into Kyouya's expensive suit, but neither move an inch.

Kyouya, finally coming out of his passionate stupor, feels, for the first time, cool raindrops hitting his face and just as suddenly, he notices something warm, in contrast, come down his cheeks. Horrified, he recognizes them as tears, but they mix with the rain rivulets on his face, and Kyouya hides his own surprise well.

And if Tamaki can tell, if he knows, he doesn't say a word.

Inexplicably, Tamaki feels his arm, as if on it's own accord, reach forwards a few inches, and it stops just short of a random place on Kyouya's person, somewhere near his mid-section.

He keeps it there, suspended. After what feels like hours, Kyouya lifts one foot and steps forward half an inch. He feels that instinct every person has, the one that makes us gravitate towards the nearest human source when we seek comfort, sometimes against our will. He humors it, but he lets it go no further. As soon as the tips of Tamaki's fingers make contact, the blond drops his hand. The moment is broken, and that yearning to be comforted and to comfort, disappears.

"Kyouya….I'm-"

"No. I am."

Standing in the rain, they face each other, only a foot apart, and Kyouya attempts to make himself hate the other boy.

And Kyouya realizes, not for the first time, that he can never loathe him, not even if he actually wanted to.

Tamaki tries to make himself love him again, to forgive him.

And Tamaki knows that he still loves him, always has, and that Kyouya is already forgiven, whether or not he wants to be.

Something unnoticeable to Tamaki snaps Kyouya out of his trance, and he straightens. Without blinking, without saying a word, he turns and walks back calmly through the doors to the hospital. He waits until he's inside to wipe his face.

Tamaki stays outside for a long time.

Only when it stops raining does he go back in as well.

* * *

**I wasn't really going anywhere with this. You probably want to know what's wrong with Fuyumi (Kyouya's sister), right? Well, don't ask, 'cause I don't really know. XD**

**Let's just pretend, for the sake of the one-shot, that she's seriously ill…..**


End file.
